


i'll lasso the moon

by bitnotgood



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Always a Different Sex, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-04
Updated: 2015-01-04
Packaged: 2018-03-05 08:05:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3112304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bitnotgood/pseuds/bitnotgood
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>based on: i want to sit on a kitchen counter in my underwear at 3 am with you and talk about the universe</p>
            </blockquote>





	i'll lasso the moon

**Author's Note:**

> funny story. i started writing this because of [this](http://nightowlpost.tumblr.com/post/74467639342/jami1a-flowury-i-want-to-sit-on-a-kitchen) post. then i stopped writing it (because i take forever) and incorporated lines from It's a Wonderful Life. just in time for the end of the holidays.
> 
> i didn't have a beta for this, so any mistakes are my fault and i am sorry

It's a little past three in the morning when Jim and Bones come stumbling through the door of their shared dorm. Bones is bitching about supporting Jim's sorry ass, and Jim bites her tongue when she wants to complain that Bones drank way more than she did. 

"I dunno Bonsey, I think I'm the one who's holding you up. It's all that hair that's weighing you down." Jim moves to tug on the mop of hair falling past Bones' shoulders, but Bones bats her away. 

"What's going to happen is I'm gonna take all of these clothes off-" Jim lets out a high whistle. 

"You sure know how to get a girl all tingly inside." Bones' glare is deadly. 

"You shut the fuck up, or I am not going to be nice to you at all in the morning." Jim pouts at that. 

"But _Bones_ , you wouldn't actually be that cruel. That goes against your doctoring moral compass.” 

Bones sighs and gives Jim the, “ _I have no idea what in the hell you are talking about_ ” look and continues. "What I was going to say, is that I'm going to put on pajamas, drink a gallon of water, and pray to heaven above that I die in my sleep."

Bones deposits Jim on the couch with an undignified _humph_ before making her way toward the bedroom. Jim does not spend a substantial time staring at Bones' ass in the pair of tight jeans she's wearing. (There's no need since she spent most of the night doing it.) Then a thought occurs to her.

" _Bones_ ," she calls at the empty hallway."Are those my jeans?" When Bones doesn't respond, Jim rolls off the couch and onto the ground in a heap. Jim decides that moving is not an option.

A few minutes later Jim can hear Bones shuffling back into the living room. Her eyes are closed, but Jim can imagine Bones, shoulders slouched slightly, wearing a baggy Ole Miss t-shirt. Jim’s about to peek when something falls on her face. It’s soft, of course, but it’s enough to startle her.

“Hey! What’re you doing throwing things at _drunk_ people?”

Bones chuckles, and the low sound sends something warm up Jim’s spine. “It’s a shirt. And I didn’t throw it at you, jackass.”

Bones’ voice sounds like it’s coming from the kitchen meaning she probably won’t notice the way Jim nuzzles into the worn fabric. It smells the way shirts do when they’re left out on the floor a few days before being put away. There’s a slight note of a spray Bones wears sometimes-- some sort of flowery thing Jim can’t remember the name of, but has come to identify with Bones. Jim’s drunk enough to even think it smells like _home_. 

"You could say thank you, y’know."

Jim pulls the shirt away from her face quickly, hoping Bones didn’t notice. "Bonesy, Bonesy, Booones. You’re amazing; the best roommate and friend, and-"

"Aw, shut up." Bones sounds gruff, but she’s soft around the edges, can’t help the fondness in her voice.

Jim giggles as she sits up and examines the t-shirt. It’s an Ole Miss shirt similar to the one Bones is currently wearing (just like Jim thought) along with a pair of boyshorts that do wonders for her legs. Bones, has the best damn legs Jim has ever seen and they should be bare all the time.

The sound of ice pouring out of the fridge brings Jim back to what she was doing before Bones legs became distracting. She pulls her top over her head and puts on the shirt Bones brought for her. Then she reaches behind to unhook her bra. After a few magic tugs and some adjusting of arms, Jim finally pulls the bra out from under her shirt. Jim lets out a sound of victory and throws the bra at Bones. Of course.

Her reaction is kind of anticlimactic. "Classy," she says flatly, unimpressed.

Jim grumps, but stands up, making an effort to get out of her pants, a process which is currently more difficult than it should be.

She spares a glance at Bones who’s currently leaning against the counter, an amused look on her face.

"What?" Jim whines as she trips out of her pants.

" _You_ are an idiot."

"Uh huh," Jim says, making her way into the kitchen. "And you’re kinda mean." She tugs on Bones’ ponytail making Bones roll her eyes.

It’s moments like these, with arms crossed over her chest looking ruffled and pissed at the world (mainly at Jim, which Jim will argue is a total facade), that Jim realizes just how beautiful Bones is.

(It’s also moments like these that Jim thinks she’s maybe a little bit in love with Bones, but that’s neither here nor there.)

"You’re not wearing any pants," Bones states looking down at Jim’s bare legs.

Jim’s feels her cheeks flush, but schools her features into something nonchalant. "You didn’t bring me any, so," Jim shrugs and pulls herself up onto the counter.

Bones looks like she wants to argue Jim’s logic, but refrains. Jim smirks at Bones and takes the whole conversation as a win when Bones pointedly does not look at Jim. Instead she focuses on grabbing a cup from the cabinet and fills it with water. She presses the cup into Jim’s hand. "Here, drink."

Bones stares her down until Jim takes a few gulps. Bones seems satisfied with this and turns to fill her own cup again. Jim swings her legs back and forth, her cup still against her lips. Jim catches the silvery light of the moon streaming through the window. If she moves slightly to the left Jim can see the moon, a gaping hole of light amongst the endless black of the night sky.

Jim wants to say something about it, something poetic and all encompassing, but doesn’t know how to put words together. She settles on, "It just doesn’t fucking end, y’know?"

"Maybe," Bones says, "if I knew what the hell you were talking about."

Jim frowns in frustration, annoyed that Bones doesn’t automatically know what she’s talking about. She should, she usually does.

"I dunno, _space_." Jim flails an arm toward the window. "It can literally go on forever, we have no clue. No fucking clue. Do you know how many stars are out there? Zillions, Bones, zillions of uncountable stars. _And planets_. Can you imagine how many planets still need to be discovered. Who knows what’s out there." The words come out in a rush and when she finally looks at Bones, she’s looking back at her like Jim’s insane.

Bones’ eyes go wide. “That’s not exciting, that’s fucking terrifying."

"No it’s not, it’s fucking amazing. Just think, when I’m captain, think of all the places we’ll go. Think of all the shit we’ll see. You’re saying that doesn’t excite you?"

Bones considers this for a moment. "Do you know what excites me? My bed, which is where I’m going," Bones says taking her cup with her.

Maybe it’s the sight of the moon, or all the tequila in her system, maybe it’s both, but a feeling of want swells in her chest. She makes a grab for Bones’ hand before she gets out of reach. Bones stares at Jim, one eyebrow raised looking tired and not up for any of Jim’s shit.

“What are you thinking?”

Jim, always acting first and thinking later, doesn’t know what to say now that she’s here.“Bones, I’d like to give you the moon.” 

“Oh, yeah? And how exactly do you plan on doing that?” Bones asks. She sounds incredulous, but she hasn’t let go of Jim’s hand yet.

Jim smiles at their laced fingers. “Hmm, I’m not sure. Maybe throw a lasso around it and pull it down for you. Then you can swallow it, and it'll all dissolve, and the moonbeams would shoot out of your fingers and your toes and the ends of your hair. Then there’s nothing left to be afraid of.”

When Jim looks up, Bones is looking at her with wide eyes and an expression that Jim can’t read. Jim’s stomach drops, nerves getting the best of her for once. She nudges at Bones’ shin with her bare foot. “Was that a little too much?”

Bones shakes her head. “Jim, you are ridiculous,” she says softly as she steps forward.

“Yeah?” Jim tugs her hand lightly, pulling Bones the rest of the way. She wraps one leg around her waist, then the other, completely closing the distance between them. All that’s left is the few inches between their faces.

 _Mhm_ , comes out as a puff of air across Jim’s mouth and Jim can’t help but smile. “Ridiculous,” Bones says pressing a kiss to Jim’s forehead. Then, “ _wonderful_ ,” as she kisses her cheek. “Beautiful idiot,” she breathes out as she finally kisses Jim’s mouth.

The kiss is closed mouths, puffs of air on Jim’s cheek, over before it really began, and Jim feels like she’s buzzing all over. 

There are thousands of things Jim wants to tell Bones in this moment. She wants to tell her that Bones is that best thing that’s ever happened to her. She wants to tell her that space isn’t all that scary, especially if she goes with Jim. She wants to tell Bones that she wants here there, and everywhere else. Jim wants to tell her that she might be in love, but that’s maybe a little too much for one night.

Instead, she says, “But I’m your ridiculous idiot,” and nips at Bones’ lower lip. She kisses Bones again, deeper this time, with open mouths and Jim’s tongue running along the roof of Bones’ mouth. Bones tastes like leftover toothpaste.

She hums in agreement to Jim and trails kisses along Jim’s jaw and onto her neck. Then she kisses Jim once more on the lips. “And you always will be.”


End file.
